


How Parker Stole Eliot's Bar

by bricoleur10



Category: Leverage
Genre: Eliot fights people because he's Eliot, Gen, Protective Eliot Spencer, Set around season 4, Talks about friendship, They're still in Boston
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 05:12:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4047391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bricoleur10/pseuds/bricoleur10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Eliot just needs to get away from the rest of the team, so he’s found himself a nice bar that no one else knows about. His own personal McRory’s. He really shouldn’t be surprised when Parker finds him there. </p><p>Written as Eliot/Parker friendship, but can be read as pre-slash if you’d rather. </p><p>Pretty much just a fluffy fluff sandwich, with a touch of angst because it is Eliot Spencer’s life, after all</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Parker Stole Eliot's Bar

**How Parker Stole Eliot’s Bar**

\---

“So you come here to get into fights?” Parker asks casually, holding an icepack against his shoulder. 

Eliot bows his head and groans. “No, Parker. I come here to relax.” 

“But we already have a bar for that.” She says like it really is that simple, and like fighting and relaxing might be the same thing for him. 

Eliot takes a deep breath and tries not to let the pain he’s in affect his attitude too much. Parker can irritate him like no other, sometimes, but in this instance she’s not _trying_ to be annoying, not really. She’s just working things out in her own way, and Eliot respects her enough to have some patience with her. 

“We have a bar,” he agrees. “And it’s a fine one for settlin’ down at after cons, but too many people know me there.” 

“Isn’t that part of the point?” She asks innocently, and when Eliot reaches up to take over holding the ice pack she sits down in the booth across from him. Their section of the bar – a back, somewhat shadowed corner – is expectedly empty, seeing as Eliot had knocked out most of the guys that’d been hogging it not ten minutes ago. In his defense, they’d been being less than gentlemanly towards one of the waitresses. 

They’d been wearing thin on his patience and chivalrous nature since he’d walked in earlier that evening, their attitudes toward the waitress winning them no points with the pissed off retrieval specialist. And then Parker had come in, out of the blue, and before Eliot could even get a breath in to ask her _why_ , one of the guys was making a pass at her. Eliot had snapped, and it’s a damn good thing Markey knows and likes him, otherwise he’d probably be dealing with the local authorities about now. 

“Isn’t what part of the point?” Eliot shifts and almost groans. His shoulder’s been messed up for weeks now. The last thing he’d needed tonight was to be slamming it into some goon. 

“Having people know you,” she says, all the while studying him carefully, watching for…well, in anyone else he’d say watching for signs of injuries. But this is Parker. God only knows what she’s watching for. “At a place,” she shrugs. “Sophie says that familiarity is part of the point. Why you’re supposed to go to the same place more than once.” 

Eliot nods. “They do know me here,” he gestures towards Markey, who’s glancing at them every now and then from behind the bar. “That guy? He runs this place. Inherited it from his daddy a coupla years back. I met him when we moved to Boston. His name’s Mark, but most people call him Markey. He’s got a thirteen year old daughter that he’s raisin’ alone ‘cause his wife bailed after she was born.” 

Parker’s eyes narrow. “How come I’ve never met him?” 

Eliot’s not entirely sure how to answer that, so he stays silent and hopes she’ll give him a little more to work with. 

“Is he a client?” 

Eliot laughs lightly, but shuts up when she looks sharply at him. He hadn’t meant to offend her. 

“No, darlin’, he aint a client.” He answers. “He’s a friend.” 

“A friend?” Parker repeats, like the idea is foreign to her. 

“Sure,” he shrugs and immediately regrets it, but plows through the pain and hopefully doesn’t let the tiny thief see it. “I come in, he gives me beer. We talk about his family or the game. And, every once in a while, I take out a few…unsavory characters, so he doesn’t have to worry as much. It works.” 

“So, you help him,” Parker says, and it sounds like she’s trying so very hard to understand. 

Eliot opens his mouth to say something, but closes it almost immediately when he sees Parker looking, almost longingly, at the guy behind the counter. 

“Sure,” he agrees instead. “I help him.” And it’s not a lie; it’s just not the whole truth. 

“So…it’s like a mini-con? A side job?” She looks back at him, eyes wide and a little hopeful. 

Eliot doesn’t like lying to Parker, period. He thinks she’d probably had enough of that growing up, and more than enough of it in the world of crime. He’d figured out pretty early that that’s where her fascination with locks and security systems comes from. She doesn’t like people, but locks don’t lie. 

“D’y’wanna meet ‘im?” He asks, and it’s unexpected, even to him, but the second he gets the words out her face lights up. She quickly schools that into a look of indifference, granted, but Eliot had seen it, and a second later he’s standing. 

She follows him across the bar, shooting looks of uncertainty at everyone around them. Most of whom had seen Eliot’s fight earlier, and all of them are watching the duo with various amounts of caution. Eliot ignores all of that, though. The regulars here have seen him take out guys like that before, and the others won’t believe that he won’t hurt them, too, until they see it, so Eliot shows them. He walks up to the bar, 

Parker in tow, and doesn’t so much as glare at a single patron. 

“Spencer, man,” Markey greets him, flinging a rag over his shoulder and shaking his head. “That was a helluva fight.” He grins brightly. “Y’sure yah don’t wanna come work security for me?” 

Parker snorts, and Markey’s attention goes to her. When the blonde notices that attention, she shifts uncomfortably. Eliot subtly places a hand on the small of her back. 

“I already told’ya, I gotta day job,” he answers, and then gestures to his right. “Markey, this is a friend’a mine, Parker. Parker, this is Markey. He owns this place.” 

“Nice to meet ya, ma’am,” he tips his nonexistent hat to her. Parker takes half a step back, closer to Eliot. 

“Hi.” She manages. She doesn’t sound scared, just unsure and untrusting. Eliot catches Markey’s gaze and makes a face that hopefully says, _she’s a little weird, yeah, but give her a chance and don’t be insulted by it_. Markey seems to get it. He nods, barely perceptible, to Eliot, and then focuses all his attention on the woman between them. 

“Y’wanna drink, Parker?” He asks casually, and even though he’s behind a counter, he makes sure to keep his distance, not lean towards her. Eliot appreciates that more than words can articulate. He makes a mental note to tip his friend something handsome tonight. 

“I,” she glances at Eliot, back at Markey, and then to Eliot again; too fast for either of them to read her expression. “I, I guess,” she shrugs. “Yeah.” 

“What’ll it be?” He gestures to his wall of liquor.

Parker looks at Eliot again, and this time she holds it for a few solid seconds. “Can I get beer?” She asks him, but then immediately turns to Markey. “Sophie says ladies don’t order beer.” 

Markey tips his head back and laughs. “In here, Parker, only the best kind of ladies order beer.” He quickly pulls a glass out from under the bar and shoots a glance at Eliot.

“Light,” he nods in response to the unasked question. “Make it two.” 

He pulls a stool out then and takes a seat, meeting Parker’s gaze unwaveringly, calmly, until she does the same. Their beers are in front of them a moment later. 

“These are on the house,” Markey tells them, “For bustin’ those guys’ balls,” he nods at Eliot and the hitter, in turn, raises his glass. 

He’ll have to slip some cash into the register then, before they go. Maybe he’ll get Parker to do it for him. 

“I gotta go do my job and shit,” he tells the duo, “But you guys holler if ya need anything else, a’right?” 

“Sure thing,” Eliot agrees. 

Parker nods but won’t look up from her glass. Markey makes his way around the bar and Eliot drinks his beer. Parker’s still not saying anything, but he knows she will, in time. 

She sips her drink, fiddles with a napkin on the counter, and then the bowl of peanuts next to it. Eliot’s halfway through the beer and starting to regret leaving his ice pack at the booth when she finally starts talking. 

“He doesn’t know what we do.” And though it’s not a question, Eliot finds himself answering all the same.

“No, he doesn’t.” A thought occurs to him. “And ya can’t tell ‘im, okay?” 

She nods and keeps her eyes slanted downwards. “How long have you known him?” 

He’s answered this already, so he knows she knows the answer, but he runs with it, not yet understanding where she’s going or why. “Since about the time we set up offices out here.” 

While she’s nodding, working through something in that thieving brain of hers, Eliot does a sweep of the bar. Nothing’s changed since the last time he’d looked around. He’s always aware of his surroundings – doubly so when Parker, or any member of the team, is with him – but every few minutes, no matter where he is, he’ll take a handful of seconds to scan the perimeters of his location, route out escapes and weapons and possible points of attack. 

Since Parker’s here, he takes note of two grates in the ceiling and the one on the floor. When Hardison’s around, he’ll check for computers and power sources and safe places for him to set up his equipment. When Sophie’s nearby he’ll keep a close eye on her marks, watch with trained precision for hidden weapons or short tempers. Nate doesn’t have a specific skill set that requires narrowed focus on Eliot’s part, which makes looking after him harder than the other three combined. 

“So a few years?” Parker drags him back to their conversation, and Eliot, ever the multitasker, doesn’t take but a microsecond to fall back into it. 

“A few years,” he agrees. 

“What happens if we have to leave again?” Her voice gets a little quieter, and Eliot’s gut clenches when her words and their meaning sink in. 

He takes a deep breath and long swallow of beer, wishing for a moment that it were something stronger. “Then we have to leave,” he says, and though it’s probably a little harsh, he tries his best to say it nice. “I can’t control that kinda thing, not really.” 

“So why bother?” She finally looks up, meets his gaze. Her own is fiery with anger and pleading. “Why make friends that you don’t know if you can keep?” 

Eliot understands where she’s coming from, he really does. He sighs again, “I dunno, Parker,” he says honestly. “I used to not. Not bother with it too much,” he shakes his head. “Here and there, maybe, but I never stayed in one country long enough to make friends, never mind a city like this.” 

“So why?” She repeats, and damn if the look in her expression isn’t just as innocent and trusting as the one his nephew wears when he asks Eliot why he always comes home hurt. 

His stomach rolls a little, and he doesn’t think it’s because of the fight. “Maybe I’m jus’ gettin’ old.” He offers, and isn’t surprised at all when she shakes her head. 

“You’re not old.” She eyes him critically. “Not old enough to use it as an excuse for anything, anyway.” He chuckles at that, her unwavering honesty. “Tell me why.” 

Eliot polishes off the rest of his beer and stays silent a minute. Markey appears then and offers him another round. Eliot nods his approval and keeps an eye on Parker.

She’s watching the two of them with an unblinking gaze and open curiosity. Markey makes some noise about the baseball game that weekend and Eliot digs his heels in, calls Markey an idiot for supporting an ever losing team.

“Y’talk like you got some kinda authority,” Markey tells him, pointing a single finger, “But I aint never seen you swing for the majors.”

“Just the minors,” Parker chimes in. Both men look at her. 

“Come again, honey?” 

She jerks his thumb towards Eliot. “He played in the minor leagues for…uh, not long.” She catches herself before she says anything about their cons, but Eliot feels like banging his head against the counter all the same. He growls low in his throat, irritated. 

Markey’s looking at him with awe and shock. “Minor league baseball, Spencer?” 

Eliot tilts his head back and groans. “Don’t start on this.” He warns.

“Which team?” Markey prods, and Eliot knows it’s not getting dropped. 

“Some little outfit outta Portland,” he lies easily, remembering the back story from their con. “Played a year or so before my shoulder went,” he decides, because his shoulder hurts anyway and, at the rate he’s working now, it might not be long before it does go. 

“Bummer,” Markey says genuinely, before eyeing him critically. “Shoulda seen it. Y’gotta keen eye for the minors. Ever bet on any’a ‘em?” 

Eliot shakes his head and all but snorts. “I’m not really a gamblin’ man,” he shares, and Markey, being the good guy that he is, accepts that with a tiny nod. 

“You’ll hafta stop by for the playoffs next month,” he says, refilling his beer and wordlessly asking Parker of she’d like more, too. 

“Maybe, yeah.” He agrees. Parker shakes her head at Markey’s offer of alcohol and soon the man dips back into the crowd, working his charm on some customers he’s hoping to turn into regulars. He’s a good salesman, a flatteringly charming people person. He’s not much for lying straight out, but the way he bends and molds himself into a given person’s persona…well, he’s got a talent for reading people that would impress Sophie, that’s for sure. 

“Did I do something I wasn’t supposed to do?” Parker asks him worriedly as soon as Markey’s out of sight. 

He wants to chastise her for the information she’d given out, but she’s watching him, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, and she just looks so damn young. 

Eliot shakes his head. “Nah, you didn’t do nuthin’ wrong, darlin’.” 

She looks happy about that. “Does he think you’re first name is Spencer?” She asks then, “Or is that just a guy thing?” 

Eliot feels a surge of pride in her for having noticed that. “I told ‘im Spencer the first time I met ‘im but never specified.” 

“Like me?” 

Eliot smiles. “Yeah. Like you.” 

“And he never asked?” She’s probably used to a lot of people asking. As far as he can recall, no one on their team ever has. 

“He’s asked,” Eliot says, because Markey’s a normal guy, and having just one name isn’t all that normal. “I dodged. He left it alone,” he rolls his shoulder a little, tries to see if it still hurts. It does. “It’s too dangerous for him to know my full name.” 

“Because people might find you?” Parker questions, eyes a little darker than before. 

Eliot grits his teeth through the pain. “Yeah.” 

Silence falls between them for a long while. The hitter would be alright with sitting in it, normally, but he can tell that Parker’s got something else on her mind that she’s about to share, so he stays alert enough to be ready for it. 

“Eliot?” She turns towards him eventually. He levels her gaze, steady. “Are we friends?” 

“We’re friends,” he tells her without pause. “Hell, we’re family.” 

She nods, like this statement isn’t entirely unfamiliar to her. He thinks, with the way Nate’s been acting lately and the things Hardison undoubtedly tells her on a regular basis, he shouldn’t be surprised. 

“So, if you had to leave,” she swallows audibly and looks away. “If you had to leave, you’d tell me?” 

Eliot’s instinct is to say yes, of course, no question, and even gets his mouth open to do so. But he snaps it shut again a heartbeat later. He’s not lying to Parker. 

“If I could.” 

She looks over sharply. “What’s that mean?” 

He doesn’t want to answer her. He does another sweep of the bar. The counter they’re perched at has been empty at their end since they’d come over. The closest table isn’t within hearing distance. No one threatening has come in, no one’s blocking any of the exits, and there are still half a dozen weapons within arm’s reach. He takes a breath and looks back at the blonde. 

“If I ever hafta leave,” he says slowly, dropping his voice on instinct, “It might not be ‘cause I wanna.” 

Parker sucks in a breath and looks away, shaking her head. “That’s never gonna happen.” 

Eliot doesn’t want to argue this here. He drinks his beer and watches her. 

“We take care of each other now,” she goes on, sounding more like she’s trying to convince herself than him. “We don’t disappear, not on each other.” She pauses and tilts her head. “Or, at least not without sending in a Tara and letting us call.” 

Eliot smiles. “I don’t have a Tara.” 

“Do you have someone like Tara?” she questions, “Someone you would ask to come do your job if you had to leave?” 

“Parker…” he closes his eyes for a second, just long enough to feel vulnerable, and then opens them again. “If I ever have to leave like that, I might not be in a position to send in replacements.” 

She’s shaking her head before he’s even got the words all the way out. “Then you’re not ever gonna leave.” 

“Parker…” 

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.” She declares, and then promptly moves on. “You never answered my question.” 

Eliot rubs the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off the headache that’s threatening to form behind his eyes. “What question’s that?” 

“Why bother making friends?” She demands. 

Eliot licks his lips and watches her a moment. The blonde thief he’s taken to protecting like she’s his own is, generally speaking, disconnected from the world unrelated to crime. She sees what she wants to see, notices only what she chooses to, and blocks out the rest. 

Eliot guesses that it comes from her growing up in the foster care system – Archie probably hadn’t fucking helped matters. It’d most likely been how she’d taken care of herself, protected herself, before she’d really known how. Eliot doesn’t pity her or her life, wouldn’t dare, but if she would ever give him a list of the names of people who’d hurt her over the years, well, he’d gladly go off and hurt them back. 

He chuckles, suddenly seeing where his own thoughts had taken him. “Hell, Parker,” he shakes his head, “I think ya’ll’ve gone and made me soft.” 

“I don’t know what that means.” She eyes him critically. “Is that a good thing?” 

He smiles at her. “Yeah, Parker, it’s a good thing.” 

She accepts that with a nod and says, “I still don’t know what it means.” 

“I know,” he says easily. “That’s okay.” 

She beams at him a little. Not many people tell her on a regular basis that it’s okay to not know something. 

“Did I hear you say you’re gettin’ soft, Spencer?” Markey pops up behind the counter, nearly startling the hitter. Him and Parker should hit it off great, he thinks, annoyed; they both have an unnatural aptitude for appearing out of nowhere.

“Don’t put money on it,” he growls. 

“But that’s what you said,” Parker says, looking between the two men with wide eyes that may or may not be genuine. 

“Ah, it’s nuthin’ to be ashamed of,” Markey looks at Parker and grins. “I used to be a bad ass mother, just like this guy.” 

Parker doesn’t say anything like _oh; you used to kill people, too?_ And Eliot’s pretty damn proud of her for that. 

“What happened?” She inquires lightly, finally polishing off the last of her beer. 

“Eh,” Markey shrugs casually. “I started a family. Have a kid. Spencer tell you?” 

Parker nods. “Thirteen year old girl, right?” Her voice is thick with emotion. 

Eliot places a hand on her knee and squeezes lightly. 

“Yeah,” Markey’s eyes crinkle and his whole face lights up at the mention of his daughter. “That mellowed me out a lot.” 

Parker watches Markey until he leaves their area again, after exchanging a few words and a handful of insults with Eliot. Once he’s gone, Eliot takes a deep breath and looks over at their resident cat burglar. 

“I think I kind of get it now.” She tells him. 

Eliot smiles. “Good.” 

She looks away then, studies something over his left shoulder. Silence drifts between them once more. And, once more, Eliot waits. 

“Can I…” she starts, clearing her throat a second later. “Can I come back here with you sometime? Not all the time,” she adds hastily, “Just, y’know, sometimes? Maybe?”

The hitter sighs. This had been his place away from the crew, his little getaway, somewhere he could go without having to worry about the team all the time; his own personal McRory’s. He wants to say no to Parker but, one look at the tiny thief’s pleading gaze and open expression, and he stops cold. 

She’s putting herself out there in a way she very seldom does, and he’d probably never forgive himself if he shot her down right now. 

Yeah, he thinks with a level amount of trepidation, he’s definitely getting soft. 

He sighs again. “You never, _ever_ , tell any of the others, y’got that?” 

Parker smiles so wide that Eliot thinks he can see her molars. 

“I won’t,” she shakes her head. “It’ll be our _secret_.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees with a fond eye roll. “And anything we say here, that’s a secret, too, okay?” The last thing he needs is Parker running around telling Nate and Hardison that he’d said he’s getting soft. He figures the best way to nip that in the bud is to establish a set of perimeters that Parker will understand. 

“Okay,” she nods eagerly and bounces in her seat a little. “Does this mean that Markey is my friend now, too?” 

“It doesn’t work quite like that,” Eliot explains gently, smiling all the while. “But we’ll get ya there, I promise.” 

“Good,” she declares, reaching over to steal the rest of his beer, and Eliot lets her, because why the hell not? “I think I want that to happen now.” 

He doesn’t quite understand why he feels so very proud at hearing her say that, but he does, and he smiles softly at her, trying to let her see it. “Good,” he repeats her earlier declaration back at her. “That’s good.” 

And for the first time in a long time it feels like everything kind of is. 

**End**

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, well, I did promise something happier next time around. Hope this didn't disappoint. 
> 
> As always, your thoughts are welcome and appreciated :)


End file.
